


I'm Never Letting You Go

by Daisyishedwig



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Child Abuse, Claustrophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyishedwig/pseuds/Daisyishedwig
Summary: After Blaine came out, anytime his father was angry at him he would lock him in the closet and tell him that if he wanted to be gay he could stay in there. He's developed claustrophobia because of this and one day the hockey team locks him a janitor's closet and walk away laughing.





	I'm Never Letting You Go

It had started the day he came out. His father had always been rough with him, rougher than most fathers, but after that day he had become  _ brutal. _

First, came the look. The look of pure disgust and hatred that Blaine was pretty sure no father should ever be giving his son. The look his father gave him when he told him he was gay had him trembling in his converse.

Next, his father slapped him. Blaine’s hand had shot up to the stinging handprint on his cheek, tears filling his eyes.

“No son of mine is going to be a fag,” Neil Anderson had barked, grabbing the teens arm. He dragged him from the room, slamming him into the door to the hall closet. Blaine let out a cry of pain as the door knob dug into his back, “do you hear  me?”

Blaine couldn’t speak. 

Neil threw him into the wall opposite the closet. Blaine sunk to his knees, whimpering slightly. Mr. anderson pulled the closet door open. He grabbed Blaine’s curly hair and pushed him inside, slamming the door in his son’s face.

“If you want to be gay, you can stay in the closet!” Blaine heard the click of a lock.

“Dad?” he called, leaning against the door, “Daddy? Daddy, please.”

His father stomped away.

Blaine stared at the door, tears streaming down his face, “Dad!” he pounded on the door, “Dad, let me out! Dad, please!” no response came to his begging. He leaned against the back wall, sliding down and pulling his knees into his chest.

He heard footsteps passing by every so often. Each time he would call out cautiously, terrified of another beating from his father but desperately wanting to get out of the small, dark closet. But each time they passed right by.

Blaine wasn’t sure how long he was in there before he fell asleep, sobbing into his knees. When he woke up again he smelled breakfast cooking and his stomach grumbled loudly. He picked himself off the ground and tried the door. It was still locked.

He sighed, leaning his forehead against it, “Mom? Dad?” 

He could hear someone on the other side, unlocking it. He backed up against the wall again, dropping submissively to his knees as his father threw the door open.

“Time for school,” Neil said, kicking Blaine once, hard. Blaine nodded weakly, climbing to his feet. He scurried up the stairs to his room, grabbing some clothes before sneaking his way to the bathroom for a shower. 

He grabbed his bag from his bed and crept down the stairs. He looked longingly at the food his mother had dished out on the table but the look his father gave him told him it was not for him. 

He had gone to school, sore and hungry that day.

\----

Being locked in the closet quickly became a daily thing. Blaine flinched anytime his dad got near him, terrified of being trapped back in that hole. The closet was worse than the beatings. The not knowing. Not knowing when-- _ if _ \--he would be let out again. 

Would they forget and let him die in there? What if something happened to them and no one ever knew what happened to him? What if there wasn’t enough air in there? What if one day they left him for too long and he suffocated?

Blaine knew these fears were irrational. But that didn’t stop him from being scared of them happening.

\----

Things had gotten better once he transferred to McKinley. Maybe his dad was calming down, or maybe it was just the fact that he was never at home, always out with Kurt or someone else from Glee. 

It had been almost a month since the last time he’d been locked in the closet. He was sitting at dinner with his family when he got a text.

_ From: My Kurt (6:42 PM): Hey, babe. We still on for watching Grease tonight? _

“Who are you texting, boy,” Mr. Anderson glared at the phone in his son’s hand.

“Just a friend,” Blaine muttered, pushing his peas around his plate, “it’s movie night at his house, he wants me to come.”

“Is your homework done?” Mrs. Anderson didn’t act like a mom should. She was cold and she did nothing to help him when he would be locked in the closet for hours on end, but at least she didn’t beat him.

“Yeah, I finished it in the library right after Glee practice.”

Mr. Anderson’s fist tightened around his utensils. He didn’t like the fact that Blaine was in Glee. It just seemed to reiterate that fact that his son was a fag. “Who’s the kid?”

“K-Kurt,” Blaine stuttered out, “he’s the kicker on the football team,” Normally this would have been unnecessary information, but to his dad it told him that he was straight (though he wasn’t). It meant that his son wouldn’t be out being gay with another guy. Even though that was pretty much exactly what would be happening.

“I think you should go, Blaine,” his mom said. Blaine smiled slightly at her.

“Let me see the text.”

Blaine looked up at his father, “W-why?”

“To make sure you’re telling the truth,” Neil barked, “give me your phone.”

“Dad, I...” Blaine tried to grab his phone from it’s place on the table, but his father snatched it up. 

He opened the conversation with Kurt, reading through the texts. His eyes grew darker with each scroll. None of it was that bad. The two of them didn’t sext or anything. But the  _ I love you _ s and hearts were enough to tell his father all he needed to know about Kurt. Kurt was gay and he was dating his son.

“Dad...” Blaine contemplated trying to run for it but knew there was no way he’d make it to the door in time and it would only make things worse for him. 

Neil threw the cell phone against the wall. Blaine flinched in his seat, looking to his mom. She didn’t say anything as she sat down her fork and left the room. 

“Dad... please...”

“I  _ told  _ you. No son of my is going to be a fag.” Mr. Anderson stood, slamming his hands down on the table.

“Dad...” Blaine curled in on himself, cowering into the back of his seat, “Daddy...” begging never worked, he knew that, but he always tried. 

He knew what was coming as his dad shoved his chair over and started kicking him. He whimpered into his legs, protecting his face with his hands, “Dad,  _ please! _ ” Blaine cried.

“Please? You don’t want to hurt? Fine...” Mr. Anderson grabbed his son by the throat, dragging him down the hall.

“No, no, n-no, Dad, please! Don’t!” Blaine flailed as the gripping fear overtook his limbs, seizing control of his body. 

With the click of the lock, Blaine knew it was too late. He curled into a tight ball, trembling, trying to steady his quickened breathing. No matter how fast or slow he breathed he didn’t feel like he was getting enough oxygen. O god, he was suffocating. He rocked back and forth, pinning his head to his knees. 

The minutes ticked away as Blaine was stuck in his own personal hell. When his mom finally let him out he knew it had been a while. She didn’t speak as she handed him his phone (the screen was cracked but it still worked) and left him. Blaine took a few steadying breaths as he looked at the date. It had been a whole two days.

He had about a million texts and calls from Kurt and the other Glee kids. They were all incredibly worried. 

He texted them back, telling them that he had been in a small accident (that would account for the bruises) and that his parents had made him stay in bed for the past couple of days sleeping it off.

He cleaned himself up and made himself look as presentable as he could, using some makeup to cover up the bruise on his neck. That would be more difficult to explain if anyone saw it.

Kurt continued to text him worriedly as he finished getting ready for school. He took one last look in the mirror before heading out to his car. 

Tina was the first to see him. She coddled him, fussing over his injuries but didn’t notice anything amiss. Next came Finn who clapped him on the back saying he was glad to see him back at school but then quickly apologized as Blaine cried out in pain. He found everyone pretty quickly, but Kurt was the last and he was the one he wanted to see the most.

Blaine didn’t even let Kurt talk before he fell into his chest, hugging him tightly. There was a time when he was locked in the closet that he feared he would never see him again. Never see those beautiful blue eyes, smiling brightly at him. Never get to hold his hand or hear his beautiful falsetto singing voice. 

“Blaine, babe, are you okay?” Kurt said, pushing him back to get a good look at him.

“I just... I missed you,” he sighed, kissing him fiercely.

“I missed you too, honey,” Kurt mumbled against his lips.

Blaine’s remaining terror from being locked in the closet for the past two days disappeared as he held Kurt in his arms. He’d have to tell him what had really happened on day, but he didn’t want to think about that right now.

The rest of his day went by fine, most of it in blurs unless he had a class with Kurt. He happy and relaxed as he walked to Glee.

But then he saw them. The entire hockey team blocked his way to the choir room. He froze mid step, his hands raising up to his face.

They laughed. No matter how good of a boxer Blaine was, there was no way he could take them all. In a matter of seconds they were on him. It didn’t take long before they got bored with beating him up and shoved him into a utility closet.

Blaine coughed, blood flowing from his mouth and nostrils. He laid there for a minute, gaining the strength to stand. When he finally did, he collapsed against the door, tugging at the handle.

His heart stopped. The handle wouldn’t turn. O god, the handle wouldn’t turn. He was trapped in here. He was stuck in the closet with no way to get out. No one knew he was in here. No one would find him. He would starve to death. Or die of dehydration. Or something along those lines.

Blaine stumbled back against the wall, sinking to his knees. sobs racked his body. He was going to die. He’d never get to see Kurt again. This time he was positive about that. He hugged his knees tight to his chest, biting his pant leg to try and calm himself down.

He thought of everything he had never done. He never got to get married. He wanted to get married. He wanted to marry Kurt. He wanted to raise their children together in New York taking them to Broadway shows every week. He wanted to grow old with Kurt. He knew that Kurt would still be beautiful the day he died.

He couldn’t remember why he had been locked in here anymore. What had he done to anger his father this time? Was he still mad about Kurt? Was Blaine going to have to break up with him? He couldn’t do that. He would let his father kill him before he did that.

But what if he tried to kill Kurt? What if he went after him? Blaming him for Blaine’s sexuality. What if he hurt him? Blaine shook his head quickly. He would never let his father do that. 

His body hurt. His muscles were sore from shaking and his throat was raw from his sobbing. He was so beyond feeling anything but pain that it took him a good five minutes to realize that someone was trying to pry his hands away from his head.

“Blaine, Blaine, baby,” the voice seemed distant but it slowly pulled him back from the darkest depths of hell and into the real world, “Blaine, honey, Blaine, look at me.”

“K’rt?” Blaine whispered, slowly peeling his eyes open, “What’re you doing here?” he blinked up at his boyfriend, confused. 

“C’mon, Blaine,” he said, trying to pull him up from his fetal position on the ground.

Suddenly, Blaine jumped up, slamming into the wall, “No, you can’t be here! No! He’ll be mad. He’ll hurt you,” he cried, trying to push him away, “get out of here!”

“Blaine! Blaine! Calm down, what are you talking about?” 

“He’ll kill you, I won’t let that happen!” Blaine pushed his way past Kurt, running out of the closet. His breath caught in his throat as he realized he wasn’t at home. He was still in McKinley High and the entire Glee club was standing in the hall, watching him.

“Blaine,” Kurt came up behind him, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers.

Blaine was having trouble breathing. He had slipped up. They would know. They would know what his father did. What Blaine let him do. How weak Blaine was. How he couldn’t fight back. 

“Babe... who will be mad?” Blaine couldn’t look at him or any of the other club members. He just stared at his feet, chewing on his lip, “Blaine?”

“No one,” he said, finally, “I was just having a bad dream.”

“Blaine,” Finn was speaking this time, “you can tell us. We’ll protect you. You can come live with Kurt and I.”

“Yeah, we won’t let anyone hurt you,” Puck joined in.

“It’s really nothing, guys. Just a bad dream,”  _ he  _ could hear the false note in his voice and he knew that they could hear them too. 

“Blaine,” he still refused to look at Kurt as he spoke so Kurt grabbed his chin, forcing him to, “is your father abusing you?”

Blaine shook his head a little too fast.

“Where have you been the past two days?”

“I told you guys, I was in an accident. My parents wanted me to rest up, but I’m--”

“Don’t you dare say, fine. You are  _ not  _ fine.”

“The hockey team did this,” Blaine shrugged.

“How long has he been beating you?” 

“He isn’t!” Blaine cried.

Kurt gave up on getting him to tell the truth and wrapped him in a hug, “You’re not going home,” he whispered, “I won’t let you.”

This scared Blaine. If Blaine didn’t come home and stayed at the Hudson/Hummel house Kurt could get caught in the crossfire of his father’s rage.

“No, Kurt, he’ll--” Blaine snapped his mouth shut.

Kurt took that as enough of an admission of his father’s abuse, “I don’t care. I’m never letting you go.”

Blaine gave in, melting into his boyfriend’s arms. 


End file.
